The Way Home by Irene Hannon

that, okay?”
    Mark smiled shyly. “You’re nice, Amy. I wish my mom talked like you.”
    â€œReady to do a little practicing, Mark?”
    Mark and Amy simultaneously looked up at Cal. She was glad for Mark’s eager response, which momentarily distracted Cal, because for a second her voice deserted her. It was one thing to look at Cal in his workout clothes from across the gym, and quite another to have him standing only two feet away. His tank T-shirt clung to his broad chest, and with one hand on his hip and the other arm hugging the basketball to his side, his well-defined biceps made her breath catch in her throat. The man was in absolutely perfect physical condition, she realized, from his pecs to his abs. There wasn’t an ounce of excess flesh on his well-toned body. Muscled chest, tapering waist, flat stomach, slim hips. To use one of Darlene’s favorite expressions, Cal Richards was one hot-looking dude. If during their date she’d been impressed by the man’s mind and ethics, today she was equally impressed by his physical attributes. He radiated a virility that literally took her breath away and made her respiration go haywire.
    As Cal finished his brief conversation with Mark, handed him the ball and watched him scamper off, Amy reached for her purse and made a pretense of looking for her keys, trying to buy herself a few moments to restore her poise. No man had ever wreaked such havoc on her emotional and physical equilibrium by his mere proximity. That Cal Richards should be the one man who could seemed like a nasty trick of fate. Why couldn’t some compatible man have had this effect on her—and about two or three years down the road?
    Cal turned back to Amy, planted his hands on his hips and took a moment to study her bowed head as she searched through her purse. Her light brown hair swung forward, hiding her face, and he was glad for the momentary reprieve. He hadn’t planned to speak to her. But as he’d watched her interact with Mark, he’d been struck by the quick rapport she’d established with the shy little boy, who—for good reason—had a real problem with trust and rarely saidmore than a few words to strangers. The fact that she had quickly broken through his reserve and established a comfort level with him said a lot. It was yet another appealing side of this intriguing woman, and he’d found himself walking over to her without making a conscious decision to do so.
    Amy withdrew her keys and slung her purse over her shoulder before she looked up.
    â€œHello, Cal.”
    Her voice seemed more throaty than usual, and he suddenly found it difficult to swallow. “Hello, Amy. This is a surprise. Isn’t this a bit off your normal beat?”
    She shrugged. “I go where the stories are.”
    He glanced at his watch. “How many hours a day do you work? You were in court at nine this morning.”
    She looked at him steadily. “How ever many it takes.”
    He frowned. “But why would they assign you to two stories twelve hours apart?”
    â€œThey didn’t assign this one. I proposed it and got permission to put a piece together. I’m hoping it’s good enough to win airtime. But the rest of my work still needs to get done. So I do these kinds of stories after hours.”
    His frown deepened. “Have you had dinner?”
    The impulsive question surprised him as much as it obviously did her.
    â€œNo.”
    He hesitated, unsure what had prompted that query. But he was in too far now to back out, and he didn’thave time to analyze his motives. “Would you like to grab a bite with me? I came here directly from the office, and I’m starving.”
    She stared at him. Was he actually initiating a date? With a woman he’d gone to great lengths to avoid? “Could you repeat that? I think my ears are playing tricks on me,” she said cautiously.
    Cal gave her a crooked